


Within Hearing

by torchwood221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torchwood221b/pseuds/torchwood221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Hudson listens in on 221b</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Within Hearing

(Mrs. Hudson’s POV)

I’m not their housekeeper, I’m not their mother, I’m just their landlady but it doesn’t mean that I don’t worry about them.

Now that the boys are famous we get all kinds of crazy people showing up at the flat asking for Sherlock’s help. I’ve got Detective Inspector Lestrade on speed dial and Mycroft’s PA put an app on my phone that I’m to use in the event of a Sherlock related emergency. Mycroft has a high standard for what is considered an emergency so I’ve never used the app and I hope I never do.

Sherlock and John are with a client now, a very unsavory character if you ask me, I was hesitant to let him in. But it’s not my place to judge or to turn Sherlock’s potential clients away.

Is that shouting? Yes. Definitely shouting. John doesn’t sound happy.

I always try to stay within earshot when the boys have a client, so often they rush out the door without thinking and leave the kettle on. Once they left the client sitting there with the lights off.

Now Sherlock is shouting, it sounds like he wants to take this case and John is saying no.

The guy at the door was Sherlock’s old dealer? Well that settles it! He’s not taking the case and I’m using the app on my phone to contact Mycroft.


	2. There's An App for That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

(Mycroft’s POV)

How many hints does one man need? If I were at liberty to tell you what you should be doing in a more direct fashion I would. You aren’t the only call I need to make today.

Note to self, this MP will need to be replaced during the next election.

What does my phone want? Mrs. Hudson has utilized the app Anthea put on her phone. This is not a good sign, I left very specific instructions on when the app should be used.

“You’ll have to forgive me there is an emergency which I must attend to. My PA will contact you to set up a time for us to speak again. Perhaps over lunch” I tell him and leave a note on Anthea’s to do list. She can take care of it later once we’ve dealt with my little brother and his piss poor decision making skills.

I’m sure Doctor Watson thinks I’ve had all of my brother’s former dealers killed. This is true only in part. I had Sherlock’s regular dealers killed. Those he visited on only one occasion were imprisoned and are being closely monitored.

Based on Mrs. Hudson’s rather detailed description I’m certain I know who has come calling on my brother. A quick check of my surveillance cameras confirms it, Blake Thorne must be very desperate. But he knew what would happen if he ever contacted my brother again. In fact I was to be alerted if he was in the vicinity of Baker Street, it appears several someones are going to need a stern lecture when I’ve dealt with the matter at hand.

“Anthea I’m heading to 221b, I should be back in time for my four o’clock meeting and you’ll need to schedule lunch with Peter Sharpe, he requires face to face persuasion. But first pull the files on Blake Thorne and send me a summary detailing his recent activity.” She recognizes the name and doesn’t inquire further knowing I don’t want to be held up. Anthea is one of a handful of people I can trust to do as I ask in a timely manner. She’ll have the information I need on Thorne even before I get in the car.

By the time my car arrives at 221b Sherlock has texted me three times, John four, but the army doctor had also tried calling twice. I’ve been busy disposing of my other calls as quickly as possible so I could focus solely on Sherlock once I arrived at the flat. I probably should have at least told John I was on my way but it seems he has sought the assistance of Detective Inspector Lestrade and Sherlock’s former dealer is being forcibly removed from the flat as I make my presence known.

No sign of Sherlock though. Maybe Mrs. Hudson is helping him to see sense, maybe not. There he is, still fuming I see. It’s for your own good brother, even if you pretend not to understand why.

I once told John I worried about you constantly, and it appears I’ve been right to do so. Mr. Thorne has become more selective about who he sells to since his release but his bank account is rather high for someone who has a part time job as a mechanic.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," I say not giving away how furious I am with Sherlock for entertaining the idea of taking a case from one of your former dealers, “Mr. Thorne is currently on parole and is not to come within 100 yards of Baker Street, as he was inside my brother’s flat clearly he has violated his parole and should be arrested for doing so."

Greg smirks at me and tightly handcuffs Sherlock’s dealer before putting him in the back of a second police vehicle. I’m not surprised that he intends to stick around to give my brother a piece of his mind as well, but I intend to go first.


	3. Hard Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's turn to weigh in...

(John’s POV)

Mycroft spends an hour reading Sherlock the riot act before leaving for a meeting. Not once did he raise his voice, he didn’t have to. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Mycroft was upset. Sherlock hasn’t told me much about that time in his life but from what he has said Mycroft and Lestrade expended considerable time and effort getting him clean. Mycroft was reminding Sherlock of all that now. At some point I hear him mention my name but I’m so focused on Sherlock that I miss what he’s saying. When he’s had his say he leaves without saying goodbye.

Lestrade starts putting his two cents in before Mycroft had even made it down the stairs. He’s much more animated than Mycroft, as if shouting at Sherlock about what an idiot he was being was going get through to him. Greg should know better and I would probably have stopped him from continuing but after Greg vents his initial frustration he sits down in my chair and starts talking to Sherlock like a parent who is disappointed with something their child has done. Greg never comes out and says that he is disappointed in Sherlock but I can tell and I’m sure Sherlock can too. 

My name comes up again during Greg’s lecture only this time I’m listening close enough to know both he and Mycroft think Sherlock and I need to talk. Do they not know we’ve talked before? I know I don’t know everything but I trust that when Sherlock is ready to tell me about that part of his life he will. 

We pass Mrs. Hudson on the stairs as I show Greg out and I hope she isn’t about to give Sherlock another lecture. At some point lecturing Sherlock about his actions becomes like slamming your fist into a brick wall. He will undoubtedly tune you out and you’ll have to rehash everything six or seven times before he’ll even acknowledge that he’s made a mistake.

When I return to the flat Mrs. Hudson had come and gone but Sherlock looks up at me from his chair with a sullen expression and a fresh cup of tea. I pour myself a cup and take a seat in my usual chair.

"Aren’t you going to let me have it as well?" He asks me expecting the worst.

"You’ve already heard my thoughts on the subject. I don’t see a point in going through it all again," I reply seriously.

"I’ve disappointed you," Sherlock tells me looking anywhere but at me. Perhaps he actually listened to what Mycroft and Lestrade had to say. But I’m at a loss for words because yes I am disappointed in him but not for the reason he thinks.

"Why did you really want to help him?" I ask and Sherlock looks up at me shocked. Really Sherlock, how long have we been flat mates? How long have we been more than flat mates? If you don’t think I know when you’re holding something back you’re sadly mistaken.

Sherlock doesn’t answer me right away. In fact he doesn’t answer me for ten minutes. He’s just sitting there, staring at me. Not into space like he usually does when he’s thinking.

"Listen," I say when another ten minutes passes and he still hasn’t spoken, "I don’t need an answer. The fact that you’re giving it some thought is enough for me." For now, my mind amends.

What’s left of my tea is cold and I get up to pour it down the sink, when my back is turned Sherlock finally speaks.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes and I’m an addict."

Once I’ve sat back down he tells me everything.


End file.
